The two Doctors
by WeepingintheTardis
Summary: Set directly after 'the empty hearse'. John wants answers. It turns out that 2 years for John have only been 2 months for Sherlock...


**AN:**

**so I got inspired after seeing 'the empty hearse' and wrote my first wholock  
the story takes place directly after the episode  
*SPOILER ALERT* do not read if you haven't watched 3x01**

* * *

Finally Sherlock had insulted the last reporter enough to have him ran away in tears and they were left alone at the doorstep of 221B.  
Sherlock looked down at John questioningly. 'Not good?'  
He shook his head at his friend's -Sherlock was still his friend, right?- ignorance. 'Bit not good.' he laughed. He watched Sherlock smile back, but noticed the hesitance in his eyes. John didn't know whether it had been Mycroft's influence or not, but the Sherlock seemed to behave... well, he was less confident in his actions towards John. It was as if he was trying to make up for something. And, if you asked John, he had a good reason to.  
Two years he'd been waiting for his friend not to be dead. Eventually he couldn't but go on with his life, but part of him always believed that Sherlock would come back. And here he was. For two years Sherlock had been not dead and he hadn't given John a single sign that he'd been alive. The worst part was that other people, who he had thought less important, had known this.  
The man didn't even understand how John must feel. First of all he had disturbed him and Mary in the middle of his proposal. Then, after he'd nearly died of a heart attack, instead of telling John why he was not dead, Sherlock had insulted him. And finally, he had tricked John into forgiving him. Not that he hadn't forgiven him, but he hadn't been as good willing towards his not-dead friend to admit it.  
Yes, Sherlock did have something to make up for.

Sherlock cleared his throat. 'The others are waiting for us.'  
He thought of Mary. 'No.'  
'Sorry?'  
John shook his head again. 'I'm not going back upstairs.'  
This confused Sherlock only more. His eyes shot back and forth between John and 221B.  
'We,' John paused, pointing at Sherlock and then at himself, 'are going to have a little chat first.'  
'Oh...'  
'Indeed, oh.' he started walking away, leaving a still highly confused Sherlock at the doorstep.  
'Wait, John!'  
He heard the quick footsteps behind him and smiled lightly as he saw Sherlock's coat beside him.  
'Where are we going?'  
'Visiting an old friend of yours.'

As John had expected, Angelo was completely baffled by Sherlock's sudden appearance. But he quickly came over that and highly excited let them to their seats, though he was wise enough to let them alone after they'd ordered their food. -'As always, everything's free for you and your boyfriend, Sherlock'-  
John glared at Angelo's back as he retreated and then turned back to Sherlock and found he was staring at him expectantly.  
'Why are we here?' he asked, taking in their surroundings.  
'You know all too well why we're here.'  
Sighing Sherlock sat back. 'You still want me to explain why I did it, am I right?'  
'You,' he angrily pointed at him, 'are the one who was dead for two years, not me. I've got nothing to tell you. If I had, you would have deduced it by now anyway.'  
'It wasn't fun to play dead for two years, John, if you're thinking that, -and I know you are by the way you're looking at me right now- you're wrong.'  
'Just tell me why you did not tell me you were alive.' he hissed. 'That's all I want to know.'  
'I'm afraid that's not true,' Sherlock simply stated. 'You're curious how I did it and why wouldn't you-' he saw John gritting his teeth and fell silent. 'Ah... Right, skipping to the why, there are various reasons why I couldn't tell you, first of them being that you would be violently killed if you knew I was not dead. Another one is that Moriarty's network was shadowing you and they must believe that I was dead. I couldn't risk my friends' lives, so they all had to remain unknowing.'  
'Why did you have to die in the first place?'  
Sherlock grimaced. 'Moriarty had already stolen my reputation, but that wasn't enough. To complete his tale, I had to die.'  
John studied the lines and grooves on the table, processing the information. 'Why was Moriarty doing all that?'  
Sherlock hesitated, carefully choosing how to answer this. 'He was just like me, smart and alone. He had been screening me for a long time. Then I got a new flatmate and I wasn't on my own anymore. I'm afraid that's what triggered him to go after me.'  
'Liar.' he mouthed. 'I can see it when you're lying, Sherlock, why are you not telling me the truth?'  
Sherlock swallowed. 'I'm not lying.'  
'You are.'  
'I might not be telling everything, but what I told you is all true.'  
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. It wasn't until Angelo had brought them their plates and had lit a candle -'You have to admit it's more romantic.'- that John broke it.  
'Please tell me, Sherlock, you owe me that after all you've put me through.'  
'I can't.'  
'Why not?'  
'You won't believe me.' he stated.  
'Try me.'  
And so, finally, Sherlock started telling.

'It all started about eight months ago when you ran off to -how was she called again?- Sarah I guess, just before the gas leak blew up the opposite block.'  
'Wait a moment, Sherlock,' John cut him off, 'That was two and a half years ago, remember.'  
'Well,' Sherlock bit his lip. 'That's where it gets complicated. See, for you it was two and a half years ago, but for me it was only eight months.'  
'You're mad, aren't you? Completely crazy...' he muttered. 'You can't have time travelled, Sherlock.'  
'Ah, yes, I might have believed that too.' the other smiled. 'But then I got a rather interesting client.'

*****Two and a half years previously*****

Sherlock had been sulking on the couch for approximately half an hour now and now John was out and Mrs. Hudson had gone downstairs it was rather unsatisfying to do so. Lazily he stretched and got up, walking over the little table -not at all bothered by the fact that he messed up his papers-, and walked over to sit on the chair instead.  
That was when he first heard the noise. A loud whooshing sound that made his breath hitch in his throat.  
He turned to the window and peaked outside to see where the sound had come from. Nothing special out there. In fact, the street was unusually quiet.  
'Sherlock!' Mrs. Hudson's voice came from downstairs. 'There's someone who wants to see you.'  
He heard someone ascent the stairs. The footsteps were barely audible as if the person they belonged to was trying to hide their presence. He didn't move from his spot by the window until the visitor was standing in the doorway and coughed to ask for his attention.  
Sherlock turned and quickly examined the man standing before him. The man looked like he had plundered his granddads wardrobe, but the most outstanding was the red bowtie. Though this man's appearance was young, his eyes were sad, hurt even, which made him look centuries old.  
'Hello.' The man waved. 'I'm the Doctor.'  
He didn't answer, just kept watching his visitor. 'Something's wrong...' he muttered to himself, 'What is it?'  
'Come on, when are you going to ask it? Everyone does.' The man even seemed disappointed.  
'Sorry?'  
'No?' The man shrugged and stepped into the room. 'OK, different then, didn't expect that from him this time.'  
'Sorry, what were you saying?' He had clearly missed something. 'Who are you again?'  
The other, who had been examining the skull, stopped in his tracks and straightened his back. 'I wasn't saying anything to you except for this.' he waved again. 'Hello, I'm the Doctor.'  
He frowned. 'Doctor who?'  
'Finally...' the man sighed. 'I thought for a moment there you would be one of the few who wouldn't say it. But I guess, as humans say, bad habits never die.' He smiled at the detective. 'Just the Doctor, please.'  
'Wait, you're saying humans as if you're not one of them.' Sherlock started pacing.  
'Well that is not really the point now.'  
'So you're not human?'  
The Doctor flopped down in the armchair and crossed his legs, ignoring his question. 'I have a case for you, mister Holmes.'  
'Surprise me.' This man was completely out of his mind to think he wasn't human. Or maybe he was just playing tricks on him. Even then, he would have chosen a better name than 'the Doctor', he thought. Though, there was something about this man that immediately got his attention but he couldn't quite grasp what it was.  
'It's about a man we both know.' the Doctor started. 'He calls himself Moriarty.'  
Sherlock froze.  
'I knew I would got your interest.' The man seemed rather pleased with himself. 'But I can make it even better.'  
'How?' He couldn't help but the word came out a lot hoarser then he meant to.  
The Doctor winked. 'John Watson is in danger.'

* * *

**Tell me what you think so far?**

**TBC**


End file.
